Even drunk, the old soldier is a master with his sabre. He gives you a harsh lesson in fencing that leaves you bleeding into the gutter. He totters off, singing and weeping.
The old man used to be a cavalry officer, and he can swing that sabre like a maniac, even when drunk. [...] As the old soldier collapses, weeping, to the cobbles a ragged cheer goes up and you are handed a portion of a winner's gains.
